


When All is Said and Done

by aalikane



Category: Glee
Genre: Gen, M/M, Minor Character Death, Song fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-30
Updated: 2011-08-30
Packaged: 2017-10-23 06:16:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/247128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aalikane/pseuds/aalikane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the "Assignment of the Week" really jars with Blaine's personal feelings with his parents, will he be able to overcome it, or will he crash and burn?</p>
            </blockquote>





	When All is Said and Done

“Okay guys, this week your assignment is parents.  We all have them.  Sometimes we love them, sometimes we hate them, and sometimes we only think we hate them.” Mr. Schuester says as he’s addressing the class.  I’m really not that into these weekly assignments.  They’re lame for the most part and really have no purpose.  So why must I sit through them? “Now for this week, I want you to find a song that relates to how you feel about your parents.  Anything you want.  Gratitude, love, annoyance, disdain, anything that you feel.”

I sigh.  This is really not an assignment I want to complete.  Everyone is talking excitedly about what song they’re going to sing and I’m just sitting here staring at the floor.

What am I supposed to do?  My father isn’t… in the picture anymore.  My mom isn’t around as much as I would like.  If it wasn’t for my Aunt Mildred and Uncle Thomas, I’d be in Foster care.  But really, what song am I supposed to sing?  There really isn’t a song to express what I feel.

Kurt seems to realized that something is wrong, because he comes over and sits down next to me.  “Hey, you okay?” I shrug my shoulders, because really I’m not fine, but I’m not horrible either.  Just conflicted.

“Ehh. I’m just not too thrilled about this assignment.”

“Howcome?” He asks, and I purse my lips.

“My feelings toward my parents are personal.  They aren’t something I want everyone in Glee club to know about.” He nods.  I am thankful to whatever holy is out there that he understands me so well.

“I get that.  Why don’t you talk to Schuester about it?  Maybe he’ll let you out of it?” I shrug, it’s worth a shot.

*~*~*~*~*

I walk into Mr. Schue’s classroom before school the next day, not wanting to be overheard by anyone.

“Mr. Schue?” He looks up from where he is grading papers.  “Can I talk to you for a minute?” He nods and motions for me to sit down next to him.

“What’s up?” I take a deep breath before explaining how much I really don’t want to do this assignment.

“It’s a great assignment, but for people who have very tumultuous relationships with their parents, I don’t think it’s a good idea to do.” I tell him calmly and rationally.  There’s no way he can not see my side.

“What is so wrong with the relationship you and your parents have, if you don’t mind me asking?”  I hesitate.  How do you tell your teacher that for ten solid years you woke up to fresh bruises on your mother’s face?  That you could see the empty scotch bottles in the recycling bin and know exactly what happened while you were sound asleep in your bed.  How do you tell him that for 3 years after that, you woke up during those altercations, and continuously tried to stop them, only to get injured yourself in the process.

“My parents never got along very well.” I tell him, trying to veil as much as possible.

“Oh, are they divorced?” He asks, and I have to stop myself from darkly chuckling.

“Separated.” ….by prison and death. I think glumly.

“Well truth be told, I think you should still sing.  Singing will let you get all your pent up frustrations out and finally let them know how you feel.  I gulp, I really don’t want to know what he means by that, but I ask him anyway.

“What do you mean?”

“Today we’ll be drawing days for you all to sing, and I’ll be inviting your parents to watch.”

“Good luck getting past the Ohio State Penitentiary.” I mutter before walking out of the classroom, not giving him a chance to ask precisely what I mean by that.

  
*~*~*~*~*

“So what are you going to be singing for this week’s assignment?” Kurt asks me as we lay down on the couch in his den.  I really don’t want to talk about my abusive father, and my convict mother while we’re cuddling, but apparently, he does.

“I don’t know.  It’s not like my parents will even be there to see me perform.”

“What do you mean?  Schue is inviting all the parents.”  I laugh, because no matter what Schue does, he can’t change the past, and he can’t override the sentence given by Judge Harry Stockett from 4 years ago.

“I know, but mine won’t come.  They can’t.” I tell him, with an air of certainty that he must not believe or enjoy all too well.

“Have you even tried talking to them? Asked them to come?” I can’t help it, a burst of laughter escapes my lips.

“It wouldn’t help, trust me.” I tell him, trying to make him give this up, but hope seems to be lost.  He continues.

“Don’t you want them to be proud of you?” He asks, and that bothers me.  Of course I want my parents to be proud of me, who doesn’t?  But it’s hard to show your parents the things that would make them proud of you when one is dead, and the other is living in a 5x5 concrete cell for the next 20 years.

“Of course I do!” I practically yell at him.  “I would love for them to be proud of me, but no matter what I do, nothing will make anything better. They’re not coming, so just drop it.”

“I refuse to believe that!” Fine.  He wants proof.  I grab his hand, and pull him up off the couch.

“Fine, put your shoes on.  We’re going out.”

“And where pray-tell do you think I’m going to voluntarily go with you in this mood?” He asks.

“I’m going to take you to see my father.  I want you to see, precisely why he’ll never be proud of me.  Why he’ll never come see me perform, and why I don’t particularly mind that he doesn’t!”  We hop in my car and I drive off, making weird and random turns, that would make Kurt lost if he were going on his own.  After about twenty minutes, we stop in front of a cemetery. I get out, and walk around the other side, open Kurt’s door and drag him out.  

“Well, let’s go!” I said, and start pulling him off towards one corner of the graveyard. After a few minutes of walking, I stop, and point down at a gravestone. Kurt looks and gasps. “Kurt, this is why my father can’t come to see me perform.  This is why he’ll never be proud of me.  This is why he’ll never want to spend time with me. Because he’s dead!” I whisper to him, and I can tell that he’s about to start crying.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He asks after a few moments.

“I’m not upset about his death, Kurt. Completely the opposite actually, I’m glad he’s was shot and killed, because it means no one I love is in danger anymore.” I tell him, and he looks up at me, his brilliant blue eyes glistening due to the tears that have welled up.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a long story Kurt…”

  
*~*~*~*~*

It was the final day of performances, and I was the only one who hasn’t sung yet.  I was still hoping to get out of it, but I had a song ready…just in case.

“Okay so Blaine, you’re last.  I know your parents weren’t able to come, but would you still mind performing anyway?” I sigh as I stand up to address the group.

“I really didn’t want to sing for this assignment.  My feelings regarding my parents are extremely personal.  But Mr. Schue insisted.  So here I am.  Mr. Schue, I hope you can forgive the language.  I really wasn’t feeling up to changing the lyrics to make them school friendly.” I whispered in the band leader’s ear and they start to play.

 _He's drunk again, it's time to fight  
She must have done something wrong tonight  
The living room becomes a boxing ring  
It's time to run when you see him  
Clenching his hands_

I look at Kurt who was trying not to show it, but I knew it bothered him that my family’s problems are so royally fucked up, especially since now they’re being relayed to the entire class.

 _She's just a woman  
Never Again_

I could tell that everyone recognized the song immediately, it wasn’t one of Nickelback’s hit singles, but it expressed exactly what I’ve felt regarding my family situation.

 _I hear her scream, from down the hall  
Amazing she can even talk at all  
She cries to me, Go back to bed  
I'm terrified that she'll wind up  
Dead in his hands, She's just a woman  
Never Again_

I can almost go back through that night that changed my life forever.  I remember the smell of the pot roast that she made for dinner.  I can also remember that I needed help with math homework.  Algebra. She came into my room to help me, which is why the roast ended up burning. He came home late that night and when eh found his dinner to be both cold and burnt, he completely lost it.

 _Been there before, but not like this  
Seen it before, but not like this  
Never before have I ever  
Seen it this bad  
She's just a woman  
Never Again_

He started pushing her around the room and she ended up hitting her eye on the corner of the dining room table. I was so scared, because I had never see him like that before.  I found out later that when her eye hit the corner, that it blinded her in that eye.  Forever. All because that bastard decided to pick on someone smaller and weaker than him.

 _Just tell the nurse, you slipped and fell  
It starts to sting as it starts to swell  
She looks at you, she wants the truth  
It's right out there in the waiting room  
With those hands  
Lookin just as sweet as he can  
Never Again_

So many times, I had been with her when our neighbors saw the bruises on her face, her wrists, her arms and legs. I couldn’t stop her from lying whenever she would tell them that she was just clumsy.  I couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t just tell the truth.  She always insisted that I tell the truth, and that it was the most important thing, but she lied every day.  To Him, to our neighbors, to family, to doctors, and even to herself.

 _Seen it before, but not like this  
Been there before, but not like this  
Never before have I ever  
Seen it this bad  
She's just a woman  
Never Again_

I honestly didn’t know what I was doing during the moment when I saw my mom’s face crash into the dining room table. I was working on pure adrenaline. Something inside me snapped at that moment, and I knew exactly what I had to do. I knew where it was, and I knew what I needed to do.

 _Father's a name you haven't earned yet  
You're just a child with a temper  
Haven't you heard "Don't hit a lady"?  
Kickin' your ass would be a pleasure_

He’s about a foot taller than me, which means I would never have been able to take him in a fight, even if I did know how to. So I did the next best thing.  I ran into their bedroom. I opened up his end table drawer and found it.  The loaded, semi-automatic pistol that he kept there for protection.

  
 _He's drunk again, it's time to fight  
Same old shit, just on a different night  
She grabs the gun, she's had enough  
Tonight she'll find out how fucking  
Tough is this man  
Pulls the trigger as fast as she can  
Never Again_

I grab the pistol, and run it over to her, so that we both have some protection. He is throwing furniture and is a bit to preoccupied to see what I’ve done. She takes it from me and when he comes near us again, she shoots him.

 _Seen it before, but not like this  
Been there before, but not like this  
Never before have I ever  
Seen it this bad  
She's just a woman  
Never Again _

At least that’s what the police report says.

**Author's Note:**

> I have honestly no idea where that ending came from. I had a completely different on in mind, but my brain/fingers had a mind of their own. It shocked the hell out of me as well. I'm still not convinced that someone else entered my body momentarily and decided to type it in while I wasn't paying attention.


End file.
